


Be Strong Without Me

by smaragaide



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragaide/pseuds/smaragaide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes on where the last episode of the show left off so far this season. </p><p>This is my take on Petyr's POV returning to Winterfell after leaving Kings Landing and Stannis attacking the Boltons.</p><p>After all the crap D&D just shat out, this little ficlet just popped into my head. It's not going to be long because I'm still focused on the "Return to Winterfell" storyline. I thought I'd give you guys this little diddy while waiting for the next chapter on RtW. </p><p>I just want Petyr back in Winterfell and back with Sansa where he belongs. I'm still really ticked at the show right now as you can see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Strong Without Me

Petyr looked over the icy sea before him. His ships had rounded the Fingers and made their way their way past the Three Sisters. The cold breeze whipped through his hair and his heavy cloak did very little to keep him warm. They had been lucky and encountered mostly smooth sailing from Gulltown. Soon they would make landfall and it wouldn’t be long at all before his army set foot in Winterfell.

It had been a long and treacherous journey from the Kings Landing. After King Tommen declared Petyr as the new Warden of the North and securing his alliance with Olenna Tyrell, Petyr made his way back to the safety of the Vale. He knew he had precious little time left to build his army and move North to Winterfell. He had sent a raven to Lord Royce giving him more power in the Vale and to prepare the taking of the entire North as a whole.

Royce was wary at first but by the time Petyr arrived at the Gates of the Moon, he had pulled a force that could take all of Kings Landing if needed. Petyr knew Royce couldn’t pass up this gain in power over the other Vale lords and considering that Petyr had made the Vale self sufficient and independent from the rest of Westeros. They could hold up for the winter while the rest of the country starved and froze to death all due to the prowess of the Lord Protector.

Petyr was worrisome over Sansa. He didn’t trust Roose Bolton at all but it was risk leaving her there alone. He knew Roose couldn’t hurt Sansa without the Stark bannermen and surrounding Northern villages rising up against him. He needed her to hold the North. It didn’t make Petyr any less uneasy about the whole affair. There was something about his son, Ramsay that didn’t sit well with him. It was a rare thing that Petyr didn’t know or couldn’t get detailed information on anyone but this bastard son was unsettling. It wasn’t anything in particular that he said or did, but something was off about him.

Soon he would know the state of affairs he left Sansa in. The storms were becoming so rough that even Petyr’s own spies were having trouble getting word to him in Kings Landing. By the time he reached the Vale, Petyr learned that Sansa was set to marry Ramsay but that was weeks ago. Nothing new was known. Stannis would be at Winterfell in a day and Petyr knew by the time his own forces reached Stark lands the battle would most likely be over. This snowstorm had been unforgiving and marching through the mountains would be lunacy.

Cersei words rang in Petyr’s ears and he smiled. “You’re not a military man…”. True, he wasn’t as far as others perceived him, but they had no idea what kind of strategist he was. He knew where and how to spend his money, who to bring to his side and how to use his assets. All his connections in Gulltown, Braavos and throughout Westeros could make or break a war and years of winter.

Since taking over in the Vale, Petyr had merchant ships built and purchased more from Braavos. Merchant ships were not something threatening in a port city. Spies for other great houses and the crown would mostly likely think nothing of it. Not only did Petyr use these ships for moving goods, they were now going to move Vale soldiers to the North bypassing Moat Cailin all together and the severely dangerous mountain roads. Petyr knew Stannis was struggling getting his forces to Winterfell from Castle Black. He was still a betting man that he could beat the Boltons but even if he failed, Petyr’s army would bury whatever the Boltons had left.

Fresh soldiers, horses, supplies and a quicker route to the North by sea as they would make land fall at White Harbor instead. The Boltons by then would be entrenched in battle and probably would never suspect Petyr’s army approaching and much less coming by sea and a shorter distance to flank the southeast region of Winterfell cutting off all supplies and escape.

 

* * *

 

 

Grey smoke blended with the winter clouds over the horizon. They were less than half a day’s ride to Winterfell and Petyr’s army camped in wait. He had sent a raven to Roose stating he was coming to his aid as he had promised before. He knew Bolton scouts would soon see a vast army approaching from the south and Petyr needed them to lower their guard believing they were allies with reinforcements.

The Vale army easily took over White Harbor, Petyr finally heard news of Winterfell from Northerners still loyal to House Stark. Indeed the marriage had taken place over a month ago and yet Sansa Stark had not been seen since in the surrounding lands or villages. Roose would have to be an idiot not to use her to calm her own people and rally them to her new family. Petyr’s stomach turned and for the first time since he whisked Sansa away from Kings Landing, he was truly worried for her.

Stannis and his army had been fighting around Winterfell for a few days. He had apparently lost a good portion of his forces to the elements and Petyr honestly wondered if he had power to take the Boltons. Stannis was the best military commander in Westeros but he was not seasoned in the harsh Northern winters. Petyr had sent out scouts before his army left White Harbor and now on the crest of the southern ridge, he knew Stannis held the upper hand taking the villages and the old bannermen turned on the Boltons and had Winterfell surrounded. Stannis’ army was depleted and couldn’t full take the castle. He had flanked riders around the northeast to contact Stannis. Letters were signed and sealed with the sigils of the Lord Declarant and Petyr knew Stannis would need this army if he not only hoped to take Winterfell but to head south for Kings Landing. He sent his righthand man, Davos, to negotiate the alliance. Petyr told him of his deceptions sent to the Boltons to have them lower their guards. He asked that Stannis retreat as the Vale approached as if in fear of the larger army but as soon as Winterfell lowered its defenses, to attack as one.

Davos seemed hesitant but at the same time Petyr knew Stannis couldn’t last much longer here without help. It was risk either way. He could trust in the Vale or die in the North. Either way, Petyr would win even though he would rather destroy the Boltons in one swoop. The one request he made to the new king, that if at all possible, not to kill Roose and his son. He told Davos that they had kidnapped and forced Sansa Stark to marry. He wished to save her life and kill her captors personally. This way, Stannis understood there was a personal stake in the Lord Protector of the Vale in helping not only him but House Stark, a mutual ally.

In a few hours he would lead his army to the castle. If he found Sansa hurt or dead, Roose and his son would suffer a fate worse than death.

 

* * *

 

 

Just as Petyr hoped, Stannis retreated and the Boltons lowered their defenses to welcome their ally only to find out too late that it was all a clever ruse. The Vale soldiers infiltrated the castle killing every man supporting the false Warden of the North. The remainder of Stannis’ army flanked the castle and took out the last of Boltons forces and within a short time it was all over. The castle was overrun and there was nowhere left to hide.

Stannis’ men found Roose and his wife already dead in the great hall. They had been dead for some time by the looks of it. Poison, most likely. Ramsay was dragged out injured but still fighting into the snowy courtyard. Every sword was pointed at him and he laughed maniacally urging any one of them to fight him.

Petyr and Stannis rode into the courtyard and Ramsay mockingly sneered, “My lords! Welcome to Winterfell. So kind of you to pay homage to me, the new Warden of the North!” He rambled on like a mad man and Petyr was horrified that he left Sansa with him.

Davos came out of the castle, “Your Grace, Lord Bolton and his wife are dead. No sign of the Stark girl.” Petyr’s heart began to sink.

Ramsay madly laughed gasping for air. “I _am_ Lord Bolton and if it’s my wife you’re speaking of, you’re looking in the wrong place,” he said in a sing song fashion.

Petyr climbed off his horse and marched over to that little bastard. “Where _is_ she?”

“Oh, Lord Baelish, I have to admit, I never expected you. You played my father well, didn’t you?” Ramsay smiled wildly and leaned in towards Petyr. “I knew better.”

Petyr grabbed him by the collar, “Where is she or I’ll have you gutted right here.”

The mad man started howling like a wolf and laughed hysterically. “Oh she howled when I took her. Cried and screamed when I fucked that tight cunt. You could have made gold off her in a brothel. I fucked her hard every night and rode her like the wild wolf she was.”

Petyr lost control and punched him in the face over and over again, “WHERE IS SHE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” he roared. Ramsay continued to laugh even with a broken nose and face covered in blood.

“Your little wolf is no match for my dogs… “ He snickered. “I’m surprised you couldn’t hear her screams as they tore her apart. She might still be alive if you hurry… I can’t promise she’ll be pretty though.” Ramsay’s eyes were wide with merriment and Petyr’s stomach turned.

Petyr ran towards the kennels as Davos and a few soldiers with crossbows followed. He opened the gate and could hear the tearing of flesh and beasts fighting for dominance. Petyr didn’t want to see it but he had to know. His heart sunk faster with each slow step. There were no screams or sounds of a female voice at all, nothing but dogs fighting over a carcass.

The men reached the end of the kennels where the large dogs were feasting. A delicate and pale hand was still gripping one of the bars of the cell. The smell of blood and raw flesh was so overwhelming combined with the visual of a girl torn apart, made two of the men vomit and another run out.

“Kill them all.” Petyr ordered quietly. The soldiers fired bolts at each of the dogs killing every one. Petyr slowly unlocked the gate and stepped inside. She was laying face down, her body mutilated and hair was soaked with blood. He couldn’t bear to pull that hair away from her face. His hand trembled as he closed his eyes. He brushed it back and opened his eyes. Petyr had to choke back the bile rising in his throat. He was close to retching. Her face was clawed and the tissue shredded on the side facing up that he couldn’t even make out her features. They ripped her to pieces. Petyr’s vision was blurred from the tears in his eyes. He couldn’t look at her anymore. This thing wasn’t his little bird. An image of her face when he kissed her last flashed in his mind.

_You’ll be strong without me… I’ll return before too long_

He could feel how silky her brown hair was between his fingers and her soft lips upon his. Gods, he knew he risked so much leaving her here but never once did he believe this is what would become of her. Raped, tortured and torn apart until death finally took her alone in fear and pain.

Petyr wiped the tears from his eyes and slowly stood. “Take her out of here. I’ll not leave her here with the dogs,” he softly ordered his soldiers. “Be gentle with her. I’ll bury her later… there is something I must do first.“

Petyr took a deep breath and strode out of the kennel with purpose. Ramsay was still being held in the courtyard where he left him.

“Lord Baelish… is it Lady Stark?” Stannis didn’t need an answer when Petyr grabbed Ramsay shoving him against the wall. Davos followed with a grim and sober expression looking at Stannis shaking his head in sorrow. Every man in the courtyard looked around in shock and disgust. As horrible as war could be, not one man would have fed a helpless girl to a pack of vicious dogs.

“KILL HIM!” a voice shouted among the men. Another voice shouted and then another and suddenly every man in the courtyard were chanting it louder and louder. He looked around the chanting courtyard, from the sigil flying from the tower, to the dead victims on display. Petyr saw an old woman hanging by her hands, flayed and encrusted in snow and ice. This is the horror Petyr left Sansa with…married her to. He would never forgive himself.

Ramsay’s mocking tone brought his attention back. “What’s the matter Lord Baelish? Don’t want to get your hands dirty?” Petyr looked at him with a stone glare. That was his heart now. Stone. First Cat, now Sansa. He couldn’t bear it. “Tell me, are my dogs well fed? They never had a lady before.” Ramsay laughed.

Petyr drew his dagger and held it to Ramsay’s throat and then stalled. “No, no, no… killing is too good for you, boy.” Petyr sneered, “You’re going to wish you drank that poison you gave your father before I’m through with you.” He commanded to his soldiers, “Hold him.”

Petyr glanced up at the sigil flying on the Bolton flag. He removed his cloak and set it aside. “How ironic your sigil is the flayed man. You’re going to be the last man to experience it in the North and be worthy of your family reputation.”

Picking up a few nails and a mallet, Petyr walked to where his men were holding Ramsay. “What do you think Ramsay? How long until you beg for me to kill you?” Petyr smirked. He had never done anything even remotely close to killing a man himself let alone torture one. The horrific image of Sansa’s mutilated body flashed in his mind and Petyr struck the nail with the hammer full force driving it through Ramsay’s hand.

The bastard’s eyes flared but he didn’t make a sound. Petyr drove a nail into his other hand splaying his arms outward on the X-shaped cross. “You think you’re brave being so quiet in front of all these men?” Petyr said with no emotion.

“Braver than you, brothelkeeper. You don’t have the stones to flay a man. You should just go back to fucking your whores. Oh yes, I forgot, I already fucked her bloody and listened to her scream as she was eaten alive.”

Petyr didn’t give an inch. He knew Ramsay was trying to goad him and this psychotic boy didn’t know who and what he was dealing with. Petyr had years on him and had plenty of people killed on his orders. Yes, this would be the first time he would get his hands dirty but it wasn’t to impress the king watching in earnest nor to strike fear in the men who ever questioned their new Lord Protector's abilities. This was for Sansa. This filth didn’t deserve a quick death. Petyr was filled with so much rage and disgust that the idea of tearing this boy’s skin from his body as he screamed didn’t phase him at all.

Petyr looked at the flayed victims around the courtyard. How many men, women and even children did this sick bastard torture? This monster deserved his comeuppance. He made Joffery look like a saint. His thoughts went back to Sansa and how he convinced her to take vengeance and go along with his agenda. He sent her to her death he winced. Petyr drove nails into each of his feet and this time Ramsay gasped in pain. He stood and looked the boy over. He was spread out just like his victims and unable to move.

“Strip him.”

The men didn’t need to be told twice. Knives ripped through Ramsay’s clothing baring him to the freezing cold. Petyr raised a single eyebrow and smirked.

“Jealous, old man?” Ramsay japed. Petyr was surprised at this boy’s will to appear unaffected while being nailed and awaiting his own torture and death. _It will make it all the more satisfying when I tear that smirk off your face while you wail in pain_ , Petyr thought.

“Not in the slightest, _boy_. I know eunuchs and dwarves that have bigger cocks.” Petyr quipped with ease that garnered a few nervous chuckles from the men. “Speaking of eunuchs, I think you won’t be needing this any longer. Shall we start here?” Petyr eyes glared when he roughly yanked Ramsay’s cock stretching it out. “My, my… doesn’t seem like there’s much to cut off.” Petyr looked at his dagger and sheathed it. Ramsay took a breath until Petyr asked one of the soldiers for his small knife.

Petyr smiled and flipped the blade in his hand with precision. “Small blade for a small cock.” He leaned to Ramsay’s ear and whispered, “This is for raping her…” Ramsay yelled in pain as Petyr dug the blade deep at the root of his member slicing slowly down to the tip, splitting it in half lengthwise. “And a useless cock, doesn’t need these…” Grabbing his testicles sharply, Petyr sheared them off in a sawing motion of his gloved hand. It was deathly quiet in the courtyard except for the Bolton bastards screams that filled the air. Blood flowed and ran down Ramsay’s legs and pooled in the white snow.

“You fucking cocksucker… I will kill you!” Ramsay spat in pain. “ I beat her, fucked her in the arse, made her suck me off and watched as she screamed as my dogs tore her face apart!” Petyr knew Ramsay was trying to rile him up. Make him angry enough to kill him faster. Petyr would have none of it. “Oh dear boy, try as you may, this isn’t ending any time soon. I’ve only just begun.”

Petyr threw his testicles on the hot coals and picked up the red hot iron. Some of the men squirmed and whispered in uneasiness. Even Stannis had his fill but didn’t attempt to stop this punishment Petyr had sentenced Ramsay to.

“Lord Baelish, he is yours to deal with as you please. I have matters that need attending to and my family. I do not wish my daughter to see this.” Stannis instructed.

“As you wish, your Grace. I’ll move him outside the walls out of respect for the ladies. He will serve as quite the warning to any remaining Bolton supporters that don’t recognize you as King, don’t you agree?” Petyr placed the molten iron to Ramsay’s now removed genitalia. The scream was high pitched and echoed throughout the castle battlements. “Now, now…I can’t have you bleeding to death too quickly, surely you understand.” Petyr patted Ramsay on the shoulder.

Stannis left the courtyard with some of his men through the gate and Petyr gave instructions to clear the dead and take over the castle and surrounding villages declaring the North to their new king, Stannis Baratheon and the Vale as protectors.

“Pick up this cross and take him outside the castle walls. The North will know that the Boltons are defeated and that the last heir has received just punishment for his crimes against the people and their king. Cut down those sigils and raise the wolf to fly over Winterfell once more.” Petyr gathered his cloak and a few tools he planned using on Ramsay next when his Vale captain stopped him.

“M’lord, wouldn’t the king want his sigil raised?” He asked cautiously.

“Until my Lady Stark is properly buried with honour, the wolf flies over her lands.” Petyr commanded and followed the condemned outside the gates.

The cross was set down and his men stabilized it to stand upright in the deep snow. Petyr set the tools down on a large stone and picked up the small knife again. “Now, my boy… where did we leave off?” The wind chill was higher out in the open and Petyr put his cloak back on. “Gods, it’s cold, isn’t it? If you’re lucky, you might freeze to death before I finish…” He looked Ramsay in the eyes for a moment and smiled, “Are you ready?”

Petyr debated on where to begin and danced the blade along his nimble fingers. He made an incision along his forearm…

“My LORD! Riders approaching!” one of the Vale scouts called down from the battlements.

Petyr looked behind him and saw two riders in the distance. The snowfall made it difficult to see clearly. His personal guards, captain and a handful of soldiers raised their swords and crossbows in defense.

Slowly the riders came closer and Petyr saw one was the woman Brienne of Tarth that he and Sansa met months ago on their way to Winterfell. And sitting behind her… No… it couldn’t be…

“PETYR!” a sweet voice screamed and his heart soared!

Petyr tried to run as quickly as he could through the deep snow as he could see her now. Her auburn hair was damp and encrusted with snowflakes. Her legs sunk down in the snow and she kept stumbling over the ratty, thin cloak that barely covered her in this cold. She was sobbing hysterically and Petyr closed the distance and swooped her up into his arms.

 _She’s alive!_ Petyr thanked the Gods for the first time in his life. She wasn’t that poor girl in the kennels with brown hair. Petyr never knew she took the dye from her hair and just assumed because of what Ramsay said... Ah, it didn't matter anymore. She was alive and in his arms. He held her so tight, he worried he might break her. She sobbed uncontrollably into his neck and he could hear broken words in her tears.

“ _You’re here…. You came back… You’re really here…_ ”

She held onto him for dear life and he nuzzled her neck. “Oh Gods, I thought you were dead… he told me you were dead.” Petyr lifted her and she was light as a feather… too light. In fact, she was skin and bone. He set her down and pulled back to look at her properly.

His heart stopped. “ _Oh sweetling_ , what did he do to you…” It wasn’t a question and she didn’t need to answer. He saw the cuts, bruises and welts upon her porcelain skin. She was wearing a night shift and a cloak that was in tatters as if she hadn’t been allowed to wear anything else for days on end. The shoes on her feet barely covered her ankles and she was almost knee deep in snow.

There was anger in her eyes but also elation. “I saw my sigil fly and knew I could come back. And as soon as I saw Vale soldiers… I knew you’d come. You wouldn’t leave me here…” She cried harder and Petyr drew her back into his arms. “I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t take it any longer…he hurt me. Oh Gods, Petyr, he did terrible things to me…”

“I know you may not forgive me, but please believe… I did not know. I never would have left you if I had known…” He kissed her forehead. It wasn’t entirely true. He probably would have insisted that the wedding not take place until he returned but at least he could have left spies and added protection for her. Petyr sighed. He knew Stannis would come and take Winterfell but he never imagined that he married her to a sadistic beast. Masterplan or no, he would not have left her alone to fend for herself. Petyr cursed himself.

“How could you not know! You! You know everything about everyone! How could you leave me with… marry me to that monster!” Sansa began to hit him hard on the chest and slapped him. “You left me here and he… he… look at me… look at what he did to me. If I didn’t do as he pleased, he beat me. He hurt me every single night! _Every night…”_ she wailed. _  
_

Sansa collapsed against him and sobbed, “He tortured my small folk. Anyone that tried to help me, he flayed and killed… I couldn’t escape. He kept me locked up.”

Petyr held her and didn’t know what he could say to console her. He made a huge mistake taking this risk and she paid the price. The lovely girl he first laid eyes on from Kings Landing was forever gone and he was to blame.

“It’s over, they’re all dead. I’ll never let anything happen to you ever again. I promise you with every fiber of my being, I will _never_ let you come to harm again, sweetling.” Sansa stilled in his arms and suddenly pulled back looking over his shoulder.

“Is that him?” Sansa asked looking directly at Ramsay’s naked and bound body against the ramparts. She pushed past Petyr and trudged through the snow towards him.

“Sansa! _Wait_!” Petyr charged after her but she was already standing before her former captor. She stood staring with glassy eyes and a stony expression. She looked him over and saw what Petyr had done to his gentials. A small smile formed on her lips and she picked up one of the blades resting on the stone.

“You think that was painful? Wait until I’m done with you, you filth. I will have you flayed alive _slowly_. But I’ll be kind and leave your face so everyone can see who you were, you son of a bitch.” She spat on his face with pure venom in her voice.

Ramsay smiled back and proved he was going to be difficult to the bitter end. “Did you tell your whore master there, how much you loved being treated like a dirty slut? Do you think he will fuck you tonight like a bitch in heat…”

Sansa screamed and stabbed him multiple times with the small knife. The blade wasn't long enough to make fatal wounds but Petyr stopped her all the same. “Sweetling, no… don’t give him what he wants… a quick death. I will make him suffer, I promise you.” Petyr took the blade from her hand and pulled her back against him.

Ramsay wheezed from the wounds to his chest and the bitter cold. “And I promise _you_ , that my seed hasn’t died out, “ he laughed to himself. “She will bear my child. That’s how many times I had her, Baelish. Didn’t your whores get pregnant often from fucking every day?”

Sansa wailed and was going to strike him, but Petyr held her back. “Sansa, don’t. Let me take you inside, you’re freezing. I will deal with him and he _will_ suffer. Don’t worry about anything else, I will take care of everything.”

Petyr looked to his captain and gave the order. “Flay him alive and leave him here to die.” The men of the Vale looked at each other in discomfort. “Do you have a problem with that captain, or do I need to find someone else?”

The captain swallowed hard and stood tall, “No, m’lord. It will be done.”

Sansa was shivering terribly and Petyr removed his warm cloak wrapping it around her. She was moving slowly through the deep snow and he saved her the effort and further damage to her frozen feet and legs. Petyr effortlessly picked her up and cradled her in his arms. Her voice was weak as it whispered, “Petyr… Brienne… she helped me.”

Petyr turned around almost forgetting about the lady from Tarth. If she had helped Sansa escape, he was indebted to her. “Lady Brienne, please, you are welcome here.” He offered sincerely.

The blonde woman didn’t move from her horse and had the look of suspicion written on her face. “Lady Sansa, let me take you to the village instead. I have a room at the inn.”

“Brienne, please, this is my home again. Come, I owe you so much. Please.” Sansa pleaded.

Petyr added out of respect for his little bird’s wishes, “My lady, I promise you on the life of Lady Stark, that no harm will come to you or your squire. Please, accept my apology and gratitude. You are a guest of Winterfell and under the protection of King Stannis.”

The woman took her time mulling it over but right when Petyr was ready to leave with or without an answer, she acquiesced. “Thank you Lord Baelish, I will accept the _king’s_ hospitality and protection.”

Petyr didn’t care either way, all he wanted was his little mockingbird safe and Winterfell back under her control and that of the North. Her frail body hardly weighed anything at all as he carried her. She was his first priority. He needed to mend a badly damaged bridge between them and meant to start today. Right now, everything was about Sansa and winning her trust again.


End file.
